


Gutter Glitter

by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa- (strangeandintoxicating)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, M/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandintoxicating/pseuds/Strange%20and%20Intoxicating%20-rsa-
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel tells Dean to stop Sam at St. Mary's Convent, he tries. Just some chick in his leather jacket crashes the party. Oh, and she's claiming to be Dean and Castiel's little bundle of joy. Oh, dear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gutter Glitter
> 
> By: Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-
> 
> Characters and Pairings: Castiel/Dean, Past Sam/Ruby, Gabriel/Sam, OC
> 
> Warnings: Sexuality, violence, blasphemy, Pre-Apocalypse (the last episode of Season 4 has not completely occurred yet) and though I don't want to have to warn for this, there is an OC. She's not completely Super Woman, she's not hooking up with anyone, and I really want you guys to not kill her because of anything. Sammy's a fun character that I think would make a lot of sense in the AU world she's coming from. Also, she's a nun.
> 
> Spoilers: Through all seasons, including hints and information on Season 6.
> 
> Author Notes: This is something fun I've been thinking about for a while. I'm a serious Supernatural freak, but there aren't a whole ton of good female characters. Now, normally these characters hook up with one of the characters, but I'm not into that. Also, I need to mention that there is no M-Preg in this story. Each area mentioned that is not in canon has been thoroughly searched by me for local roads, hotels the guys may stay in, as well as restaurants. The OC is also not the main part of the story. She's more of an awesome catalyst.

Gutter Glitter

Chapter 1: In Which Dean Finds Out He's a Daddy

" _Who are you?"_

" _Sam Winchester."_

 _"You're not my brother, you freaky bitch."_

 _"No, but I am your kid. So, take a chill pill because I don't want to shoot your nuts off and create a paradox here."_

* * *

 _St. Mary's Convent, Ilchester, Maryland_

"It's the archangel! I'll hold him off. I'll hold them **all** off! Just stop Sam!" Castiel's fingers **hurt**. It dug into his brain and Dean winced in pain. He'd gotten used to angel mojo, but this just plain out _burned_.

And Dean was shaken.

There was no other word for what he felt; Cas was probably minced angel meat and who knew what happened to Chuck. Since he was a prophet, he was probably okay, but really who the fuck could know?

Either way, he had to shut down whatever Sam was about to do before he helped spring Lucifer from his cage. The damn apocalypse was two seconds away, and he needed to get through the door where Cas dumped him. He needed to stop _Sam_.

He ran into the church, through toward the inner sanctum. He could hear screaming and his brother's voice—so very clear. When he turned a corner, he could see Sammy and Ruby, but his brother didn't see him.

She did. With a smirk, Ruby twisted up her hand and in a flourish the door slammed shut, locking the three inside. Dean caught a glimpse of Lilith being held to the alter by Sam's demon powers, and could smell the sweat and fear palpitating from inside. Sam was going to open the last fucking seal, and there was shit he could do about it.

 _Oh God, my baby brother's going to start the apocalypse._

" _ **Sam! Sammy! Don't do it!"**_ He ran forward and banged his arms down on the heavy wood, but it wouldn't budge. He needed to get in, he needed to stop Sammy. If he didn't, everything would be over. It wouldn't matter what Dean did in the past, what people he saved. They would all die when Lucifer came up to earth and the angels dicks smote them all.

 _God, if you're there, don't let this happen. Oh God. Please don't let this happen, please. Cas, what the fuck am I supposed to do?_

And, as if his prayers were answered, there was a scream and glass shattering, then the door simply _clicked_ open. Nothing was that easy. Nothing just opened because he fucking prayed to God that it would.

But, it did.

He almost didn't want to take that step into the room, see whatever fucked up Thing caused the crash. There was something in his gut, a Winchester detector of bad shit going down, that seemed to say that the coast was clear, that everything hadn't completely gone to shit and maybe, despite his complete incompetence in stopping Sammy, things were going to be okay.

He didn't expect to come face-to face with a chick in a leather jacket wielding a sawed-off shotgun. Lilith lay panting on her side, giggling hysterically as Ruby and Sam bled on the ground. They weren't dead but their noses were definitely broken. If it hadn't been such a serious situation, like the beginning of the fucking end of the world, Dean would have killed the chick for hurting Sam. Right now, it was exactly where he needed his brother to be.

"Looks like I stopped him just in the nick of time," the woman mused, though calling her such was probably a real stretch. She still looked like she was jail-bait, with soft features and wide, child-like green eyes. The jacket she was wearing seemed to engulf her, swaddling her like an infant, and she had her hair tied back and covered with a long, dark veil. She couldn't have been much older than eighteen, if that.

Normally, when kick-ass chicks came in and saved the day, Dean would be _all over it_. The idea of even looking at this particular chick in that way made his Winchester detector go off like no one's business.

"What the hell do you mean?"

The girl turned away. "Deus non tene malos scortum," she spit, "angeli veniunt vobis."

Lilith's cheeks lost their color and her throat seemed to close up. There was no more laughter. "What do you mean, the angels are coming for me? They cannot do anything to me! I'm the first demon; they kill me and it released Him from His cage!" She threw her body forward and clawed at the ground where the blood of Sam and Ruby congealed, her nails ripping into the concrete.

The girl laughed, hollow. "Oh, Lamia. Whore of Lucifer. Was he worth it? He painted a bulls-eye on your forehead the moment you consecrated your unholy union. God would have taken you into His arms if you had only _asked_. Instead, look at you—" the girl gestured around her, looking at the cracked ceilings and burning candles. Dean didn't understand what she was doing but egging the first demon on. What good would it do? "You've lost your beauty and have become an animal."

Lilith coughed, though it could have been either a laugh or a sob. "There is nothing you can tell me, filthy Nephilim, that will change anything. If Lucifer needs me dead—"

"You know you don't want death. You want to continue to live and in fact, you've been wanting back into Hell since Lucifer sent you back up here. Why else would you try to barter with the Sons of Saint John Winchester?"

"Wait, since when is my dad a Saint?"

The girl looked over at Dean, and actually seemed to blush. "Er... It's in the Winchester Gospels... 7.12. Though, from that look on your face, that hasn't happened yet. Then again, we're only at 4.22..."

Dean blinked. "What the hell is coming out of your mouth, kid?"

The girl shook her head and looked back to Lilith, who gave up at dragging her hands through broken rock and stared at both of them with confusion. "Nephilim," Lilith tilted her head and squinted her eyes, as if the girl in front of her was too bright to fully look at, "I must die so that He can live and take back what He deserves."

She shrugged, her black veil draping over her shoulder. "Yeah, you could. Or we can deal with this in a more productive way, one that ends in a win-win situation for us all."

Was this kid nuts? She was bartering with the mother of all demons, the bitch who spread her legs for a wanton whore for Lucifer himself, the demon who took the skins of little girls and _played with them_ for weeks before leaving the entire area a battle zone.

"What'd you think you can do? Hand me to God and let him diddle me straight? Let the little angels play with me until I'm a nun? I'm a demon and they want the apocalypse just as much as Lucifer does." Lilith spit and her eyes flashed milky white.

"Oh, nothing of the sort. You're terrified of death," the girl got to her knees and lay a hand on the demon's cheek. Lilith pulled back quickly, a burn melting over her face. She didn't scream; it didn't even seem like she felt it. "You're more scared of the unknown than disobeying."

"There's nothing after this," she said as she pushed her hands back into the grovel. "There is nothing. I simply don't exist anymore, so of course I don't want to just _die_. But, what's a demon to do? He made me to open the gate."

"And yet you ran to Sam Winchester to get out of the deal. Self-preservation and all that. I suggest Purgatory. There, you are neither able to destroy the world or yourself, and Lucifer can't break free."

Lilith laughed at this, throwing her head back, exposing her long, pale throat. "I'd rather stay here, on this pretty little continent and play with the little humans."

"Not an option. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

What was this kid _doing?_ Was she trying to bargain with the mother of all demons?

"And what if I—" Lilith was thrown back into the alter, head cracking into the stone. Blood spurted out of her wicked mouth and across her white dress.

Dean looked back to his brother and the bitch, but they were both still out like a light—the chick looked just as shocked (and absolutely terrified, her eyes wide and lips trembling) as he did. There was nothing there, nothing could have possibly been holding Lilith to that stone, and yet she still _was_.

"No, no, no!" the girl screamed as she reached forward to grab the demon's arms, shaking her wildly, but only causing more skin to bubble off her vessel. "I did _not_ come back here for your to just **die on me!** "

There was light, bright light seeping out of Lilith's mouth and Dean didn't want to know what was going to go down next. Instead, he knelt down and grabbed his bulky brother's arm, pulling him over his shoulder. Even if it wasn't him, Sam got stopped—the chick did what Castiel told him to do, but from Lilith's melting face, there wasn't a damn thing that would stop what was happening. Armageddon was coming, and it was coming fast.

"Kid, you need to get the fuck out of here!" Dean yelled as the entire church began to shake on its foundation. The lights twirled as blood swirled, and damn it this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Sam was stopped, even if not by his hand, and things should have just been okay. "Fuckin' Satan's gunna be here in a minute and there's jack-shit that's gunna stop our heads from exploding in one nasty mess."

The girl frantically looked around, as if her very surrounding confused her, before grabbing Ruby by the hair and yanking her backward and followed Dean through the open cathedral door.

"Leave the demon bitch!" Dean yelled over the sound of the earth crumbling, but the girl yelled a very loud " _fuck no!"_ in response. She reined Ruby with her hands and made sure to smash her nose in again with the butt of her gun to know her back out. If it hasn't been such a serious situation, Dean would have congratulated the kid for being such a major hard-ass. Right now, they were running from the devil. Not a demon, but **the** Devil.

And it was almost weird how comfortable Dean felt with this unknown kick-ass girl with a veil.

* * *

 _Crossroads Restaurant, Perrysburg, Ohio_

The drive should have taken about eight hours, but Dean made it there in five. The girl hogtied both Sam and Ruby in the little space there was in the trunk and said that it would hold 'em. The way Ruby screamed somewhere around Milan back on Route 90 suggested that she certainly wasn't able to get out of the trunk.

Right now, his baby brother and his whore were tied up in the Howard Johnson Inn across the street. The devil-traps and powerful pills Dean shoved down Sam's throat would keep them quiet for a little while, love enough for Dean and the kid to grab something to eat. They only stopped twice once on the road—back in Brookville to fill up the Impala, and another time a little after Milan so the kid could reinforce the devil-traps on the ceiling of the trunk.

Dean didn't understand why he let the girl into the Impala. Maybe it was Lucifer overheating and frying the fuck out of Ilchester and not wanting to leave a little girl who tried saving the world out to because Lucifer's first meal. Maybe it was the way she looked at him when he told her to go home and her eyes seemed to well up. It could have even been the way Ruby's blood dripped down her cheek and for some reason it reminded him of Sammy during his first hunt.

He couldn't turn her away, even though she wouldn't even tell him her name. She just sat in the front seat and winded and unwinded one of his classic tapes, staring at the open road like she knew the highway as well as he did. She turned the volume up whenever Metallica came on, and fiddled with the veil on her head, though she never took it off.

Dean could see the tattoo on her wrist in the form of the pentagram he had on his shoulder, and wore a bracelet that reminded him of his mom back when she was still working. In fact, more than once Dean caught himself glancing at the charms, feeling the familiar feeling of Mary Winchester radiating off it. But, that wasn't possible; all of mom's stuff was safely in storage somewhere in New York and there was no way some teenager broke in just to ransack his family's heirlooms. It was probably just a thing that all hunter girls got when they reached puberty or something.

They were just sitting in some hole-in-the-wall diner across from one another, staring down at their menus. Dean knew what he wanted: fuck-ton of coffee with a coke on the side, a double bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon, side of onion rings, and one nice slice of blueberry pie. Maybe some aspirin to get rid of that massive headache—it couldn't have gone wrong.

The girl clasped her hands in front of her, thumbs fiddling against one another. Her veil draped across her entire booth.

The weary waitress stuck on the night-shift for too many nights gave the girl a little smile, which she returned with almost inhuman enthusiasm. The waitress's face seemed to light up by the sheer genuineness, and asked the girl what she wanted to eat, a little extra 'darlin' thrown in.

"Can I get a double bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon, side of onion rings, and some blueberry pie? And for a drink, cherry coke and some coffee—maybe you should make it the whole pot." The girl handed back the menu and looked expectantly at Dean.

"An' you, hunny?" the waitress asked, though it seemed more of an afterthought.

"Same as her—except just straight coke."

The woman wrote the order down and told them it would be a little while, before walking off to get their drinks, her white sneakers rubbing into the linoleum.

"Mind reader?" Dean asked when she was gone, and the girl looked up, startled.

"Uh, no," she said, rubbing at her forehead. "It's the same thing I almost always get. I've got my dad's metabolism." She pulled at the brown leather jacket like a comfort blanket. "Though, it's not exactly a coincidence."

"Is that my jacket?"

She looked down at the jacket. "It's mine," she answered defensively and pulled herself into the back of her booth. "You've got your own—it's probably in the back seat of the Impala. Don't go trying to take mine." she tried to crack a smile, but it looked far more like a grimace.

The waitress came back with their drinks before Dean could dig into her about it. There was something up with this girl. When the waitress walked off he banged the tip of his straw into the table, eying his dinner companion. So many questions: What's your name? Where are you from? Why were you in that damned convent and trying to stop the apocalypse? Why and how'd you burn off half of Lilith's face? And most important, why did I let you sit in my front seat like you _belonged_ there.

"Who are you?"

She looked up, bright green eyes burning into his skull. "Sam Winchester."

Dean's fist tightened around his straw and he leaned close enough to hear her breathe. "You're not my brother, you freaky bitch."

He was going to leave her there—damn the consequences. She was far enough away from Lucifer that he wouldn't feel a damn bit bad about leaving her in some little fucking town near Toledo, Ohio.

Except, you know, that he _did._

"No, but I am your kid." Dean dropped back into the squishy red leather booth, mouth widening. No way. He was barely scraping thirty and didn't even fuck a girl until he was seventeen. There was no way this kid was twelve; jail-bait, sure, but not _that_ young. She banged her own straw into the table and finished with a, "So, take a chill pill because I don't want to shoot your nuts off and create a paradox here."

"I'm too young," Dean responded quickly. "And from what you did to the demon bitch back there, you're not even fully human. Nephilim, right? Ain't that the little demon spawns of—"

"Humans and fallen angels." Sam, or whoever this chick was, pushed her straw into her cherry coke and took a deep slurp. "Yeah, that's what a Nephilim is."

Dean blanched. The only fallen angel he'd ever nailed was one pissed off and vicious bitch, now that she was back to being an angel. Anna—sweet Anna who just wanted to spend her last night on earth in the back of the Impala with their flesh against one another. It wasn't bad sex, but he remembered Anna's hand on his bicep and how cold it was against his scar.

If he'd known that fucking her would create some little Nephilim...

"So you're Anna's kid?" Dean reached for his coke and took a large gulp, only realizing a moment later that their mannerisms were way too similar.

"You had sex with Anna?" Sam asked, though her face turned colors. "No, I'm not. That's a little to Raising Hope for me."

"What?"

"Oops. I forgot that you're not exactly from my time," she said. "Basically, Anna's a serial killer and I'm not her kid. Not even a Nephilim. "

Dean looked around the diner. There were a few old guys playing with their food a few booths down, a teenager with a bunch of holes in his face choking down a basket of greasy cheese fries, and a group of gaggling girls staring at the Cenobite damn near in rapture. His angel-dar wasn't going off; this wasn't some kind of ploy by Zachariah over something.

"You said 'paradox' earlier—are you saying you're like what, my kid from the future?"

Sam nodded and she flicked back her veil from her eyes. "I'm born in 2012."

If he wasn't already sitting, Dean was sure he would have fallen over on his ass. "Prove it."

"I'm wearing your jacket," she pulled on the brown leather and Dean _knew_ _it was his, damn it_ , "I've got Gammy's bracelet—with a few minor additions. I can tell you that your favorite song isn't really a tie between 'Ramble On' or 'Traveling Riverside Blues', but that old The Beatles song 'Hey Jude.' You'd sing it to me when I was an infant and you told me that Gammy sang it for you. You'd also hum 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' and had this crazy thing for 'Eye of the Tiger.' You'd get yelled at for pretending I was a guitar while singing along with that one."

He never told Sam, or his father, or _anyone_ about his mother and her bedtime song to him. It was his to remember. There was no way she could have known about it unless she was reading his mind.

"What number am I thinking of?"

"I still can't read your mind." Sam twirled the ice in her glass with her clear straw. "I'm half-angel, not psychic."

"How exactly do you have angel mojo and aren't a Nephilim?"

Sam smiled to him for the first time, white teeth and wide mouth. "My daddy didn't have to Fall to have me."

"Calling bullshit right there. I ain't an angel." Dean pulled at his coat and smiled before grabbing his coke. "You'll have to do better than that. Obviously, I can't be your dad, kiddo."

"My name is Samandiriel Winchester I am the child of Dean Winchester and the Angel of the Lord know as Castiel."

 _  
**Oh Hell no.**   
_

"And I'm completely serious."

* * *


	2. Gutter Glitter Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reviewing S5E13, I realized last chapter I made a boo-boo and messed up the song Mary Winchester sang to Dean. It was not a "The Spaniels" song, but 'Hey Jude' by "The Beatles." Sorry about that! I remembered there was a song, but not having the episode available to me until today, I went with the song my mom used to hum to me as a baby. I fixed it, though!

Chapter 2: In Which Dean and Samandiriel Chat About Stuff

 _Crossroads Restaurant, Perrysburg, Ohio_

In the many potential ways that fatherhood could be thrown on Dean Winchester, having his teenage daughter drop out of the sky, attempt to take on Lilith and prevent the apocalypse, then sit casually in a hole-in-the-wall diner in some crappy little town in Ohio while his baby brother and said baby brother's demon-whore girlfriend were tied up in a motel wasn't exactly how he expected that kind of news to come out. He figured it would go something like the way it did with Lisa and his un-son Ben, or maybe with a pretty waitress in some random town in almost any state in the Union trying to track him down through the grapevines. Sometimes he wondered if there were little Winchester babies running around with big green eyes and hunter blood running through them—but now he knew of at least one.

"No way. I can't believe this. You have any idea how nuts you sound?"

"Guess you know how Gammy felt when you decided to drop into her life back in '78," the girl responded with a little rise in her voice. "Isn't that how you told her she was your mom?"

Dean looked at her oddly. "I never told her that she was my mother."

At this, Samandiriel slapped herself hard on the forehead. "5:13," she mumbled to herself, holding a hand over her head as if she was trying to remember something important. "My bad... jumped a little ahead of the gun. You don't do that until Daddy is almost ready to fall. It'll happen in a couple of weeks—or, rather, it should happen in a few weeks but with everything that I'm changing I don't know exactly what'll happen tomorrow." The girl's words became faster and she removed her hand from her forehead only to slap it again. "What was I thinking? How could I possibly think this was a good idea?"

Dean could only stare at the little girl wearing his leather, his eyes, his freckles, his _nose_. It was almost like a punch to the gut.

"What can I do to prove that I am who I am?"

This was insane and fucked up and made about as much sense as a bunch of dragons flying through Missouri in the middle of winter for kicks... and maybe that was why he believed it. It didn't make sense. He wanted to deny it a little more, tell her that she'd flown over the cuckoo's nest more than once and maybe drank the Kool-Aid and needed her head examined. He flew through the various monsters she could have been and marked them off the more he looked at her. She was wearing a pure silver charm bracelet with over two dozen protection and religious symbols, her wrist was tattooed with anti-demonic wards, and from the brief glimpse of the skin on her neck when she brushed her veil back, she was covered in Enochian. Samandiriel even took a swig of the flask Dean forced into her hand, running the holy water between her teeth before even dipping her finger in a cracked-open salt-shaker.

"I can even recite prayers, if you'd like.  
' _Our Father, who art in heaven  
_ _hallowed be thy Name,  
_ _thy kingdom come,  
_ _thy will be done,  
_ _on earth as it is in heaven.'_  
Or maybe you want something in Latin?  
' _Pater noster, qui es in cælis,  
_ _sanctificetur nomen tuum;  
_ _adveniat regnum tuum;  
_ _fiat voluntas tua,  
_ _sicut in caelo et in terra.'"_

She did this for fifteen minutes, ruling out everything that Dean could think of even before he said a word. She wasn't a demon, vamp, demi-god, even a fucking Siren (by this point Sam pointed up at the mirror and waved her and happily at her reflection with such sarcasm that if this wasn't his kid, it would have been weird.) And really, there was something about her that Dean felt an irresistible _pull_ toward. Samandiriel, Sam, whatever she wanted to call herself, really did look like him, act like him, even drank her damn cherry coke like him.

And those green eyes... it was like looking in a fucking mirror.

Still, Dean was no idiot, and kept his eyes trained on her, waiting for the time when she'd start talking; he wasn't going to push her because if she was anything like him and knew the gravity of the situation, she'd open her damn mouth and _talk_ a little more.

They sat there in silence, Dean occasionally taking a swig of his coffee while Samandiriel played with her straw. The waitress came by once to refill Dean's coke and put some baby-pink sugar packets in the little metal basket, but other than that it was waiting on a half-angel to spill her guts over the cheap plastic tabletop.

"Do you believe me? I'm not a monster, but do you believe I'm really your kid?"

Dean grabbed his coffee, wrapping his fingers around the warm ceramic mug. "Like I said earlier, you're aware at how absolutely over-the-top loopy that idea is, right? First off, there's no way an angel and a human can get their rocks off and make you without someone losing their angel mojo. Second, I'm not about to bang an angel of the freaking Lord—"

"You're the one who slept with Anna."

"She wasn't hopped up on Jesus juice then," he snapped. "And you saying it's Cas makes it almost assured that you're lying through your teeth. He's a guy, I'm a guy. Last time I checked, he was an angel in a guy's meatsuit and I don't think either of us've got a uterus to squeeze you out of." It felt dirty saying it out loud, especially with how honest she was trying to be. But, it just didn't make _sense_. Logic, logic, lo-fucking-gic.

Then again, supernatural shit tended to throw logic out the window.

"Daddy's an _angel_ ," Sam replied and rubbed her nose.

"Someone talking bad things about you?" Dean asked, sarcasm dripping from his words. The girl cocked her head to the side, both eyes looking around.

"I don't _think_ so," she said slowly, but Dean just shook his head.

"Wive's tale," he explained, but it obviously wasn't specific enough because her eyes squinted at him. "Ya'know what, never mind. So, what about Cas being an angel?"

Samandiriel huffed and began skidding her shoe across the linoleum floor. "It's your ear when people are talking about you..." she said, confused, before blinking a few times. "About Daddy...He is most comfortable in the body of Jimmy Novak, but he was able to enter the bodies of a female counterpart for the duration of his pregnancy. I only knew him in Jimmy's vessel, but there was a period of time where he was in-"

"Claire Novak." With dawning horror, Dean banged his cup of coffee on the table and put his hand over his mouth and nose, as if to keep the bile from bubbling out of his throat. Wasn't she like twelve?

Sam nodded in agreement. "Claire. It was her gift to the angel who saved her family and gave Jimmy Novak back a body."

Dean took in a few deep breaths, running his palm all the way up his hairline."You mean Cas's got another meat suit?"

"No, no. Like I said, he really liked Jimmy as a vessel and it's the only one I've ever seen him in. But, after getting blown up the first time, Jimmy was stuck in limbo with his soul unable to get to Heaven. So, after you thought the world wouldn't be coming to an end, Daddy gave him a replicated body before he was used as a vessel. His soul didn't remember anything from the time, and his wife and daughter were more than happy to have him back."

Dean found himself nodding before going through the words she spoke. "Wait—hold on right there. Blown up? As in what kind of blown up?"

"The Winchester Gospel said 'a water balloon of chunky angel soup,' and that's the story Chuck stuck with. Apparently it was very gruesome."

"But when? I haven't seen him blow up like that!"

"That's because it happened about," the girl looked at her wrist for a moment, shook her head and grabbed Dean's wrist, yanking him forward,"seven hours ago? Give or take. The second you got beamed out of Chuck's house Daddy exploded."

The calm way she spoke of the demise of her 'father' made Dean a little more than uncomfortable and he pushed himself a little back into the red upholstery, pulling his watch and wrist away from her.

Sam sighed. "He explodes once every book, normally in the final verses. It's from 4:22 all the way to 22:19. He even exploded after my birth. Thankfully, it was more of a figurative explosion than literal. Jimmy was already uncomfortable with the thought of an angel living inside his seventeen-year-old daughter for nine months... blowing her up would have been a very big... _mess_." Sam looked a little pale for a moment, before it disappeared and all that was left was a blankness that Dean _understands_. "23:22 ends... very different."

Her eyes had that same glazed-over pain that hadn't faded with time. A fresh wound, a fresh scar on her.

Castiel would die in about nineteen years his time, but it could have been days for her. Yet, he had so many questions about Castiel, about this half-angel business... how he managed to let himself father a child with an angel tucked in a meatsuit and why he hadn't complained about knocking up a teenager.

Thankfully, the waitress showed up with their food before the girl could break into tears. She placed the large baskets of onion rings and burgers on the table, the grease sluggishly leaking its way through the paper and onto the tabletop. The bacon, thick and crispy, sat in a pile on the corner and Dean watched as Samandiriel looked at her meal with wide, hungry eyes.

When the woman left, giving Sam a pat on the arm, the girl wasted no time digging into her food with a gusto Dean could only remember him ever having. She ate quickly at first, shoving onions rings and bacon cheeseburger into her mouth like she hadn't eaten a proper meal her entire life. Red juice dripped down her palms and there was a smudge of ketchup on her chin that Sam hasn't noticed was there. Dean looked down at his own food and back at the girl before pushing his plate toward her.

"'Wuz 'dat f'r?" she asked before swallowing and putting her burger down on the plate, grabbing at a napkin to clean her face and hands.

"I don't want you going Karen Cooper on me, kid. Just, uh, here." He nudged the plate forward and she pushed it back. "You obviously haven't eaten very much lately."

"I won't start munching on your guts, Da—" Sam cut herself off. "Dean." There was a roughness as she pushed back the plate again, the contents nearly spilling into his lap. "Just eat, please?" She looked down at her own half-eaten burger and fumbled with the bun for a moment before smashing the top back in place. "Can you just act like this is normal for a little while?" The bad-ass girl wielding a sawed-off shotgun was still in there, but from the feeling of mutual pain, Dean knew what she was going through—how it physically made him shake when he saw his mother smiling at his father back when Castiel zapped him into the past. He could remember wanting to just touch her face and make sure she was real, then shield her from the future.

"Yeah, kid." Dean made a show of picking up his burger, smiling a bit as he bit into it with forced enthusiasm. It tasted a little more salty than he'd admit. "You can explain it over pie—I'm buying the whole damn thing."

* * *

"You and Daddy always said I was made from stardust, angel-mojo and a whole hell of a lot of love."

 _Don't look up at her, Dean._

"I was conceived after you and Daddy were married in the eyes of God on January 24th of 2012—your birthday. I think it was about a year or so after you guys locked Lucifer back in his cage without ending the world

"Officially, you married someone named "Castiel Angelus," and had to have a Reverend you helped out with a hook-man and his angry daughter file the false paperwork. Daddy always said he didn't understand the customs of humans... and said it was mostly a ploy to try and get him into a frilly white dress." Samandiriel's eyes were closed as if she were seeing her words come to life before her very eyes. Maybe they were—Dean wasn't sure how angel powers worked, let alone what a half-angel could do. "I think he liked it mostly because it kept your mind off of Claire. You were terrified of her—I can even see it on you now. Just know when the time comes, it's her own choice, no one else. She freely did it because of how much love she has. Thankfully, she won't remember any of it.

"I was born on October 25th in the back of the Impala on the way to Sioux Falls. The Novak family didn't want Claire's body to be harmed by me and wanted me born in a hospital, but you thought it would be better to go to Uncle Bobby's. Even with you and Daddy saying that nothing could go possibly wrong, it kind of did. When I popped out to say hello there was a burst of white light that caused the glass to shatter a mile radius along I-90—the entirety of I-90."

Dean chuckled at that fact—I-90 was the longest interstate in the country, spanning across the entirety of northern US. Only his kid.

The girl lifted up her fork, running a squiggled line through the blueberry filling on her plate. "We were a happy family; you, Daddy, Uncle Sam and Bobby, and me. You stayed off the road for a while once you got to Sioux Falls, setting up house at Uncle Bobby's. He may never admit it to you, but he loves babies. Since the infamous Roadhouse was destroyed a few years before, there hadn't been a place for hunters to actually stay, and we were his first charges, I guess. Built up and out—lot of room for a lot of people. Before everything started happening, the Salvage Yard ended up with a lot of wandering hunters and we made due with what we had. We're not rich or anything—most of it came from credit card scams and identity theft, but also from royalty checks Chuck started sending."

"Royalty checks?" Dean asked, not looking up from his hands and the chunk of pie in front of him.

"Supernatural is a hit; more books, movie deals, action figures, conventions—the whole nine yards. By the time I'm four your names are about as popular as Brad Pitt. Then again, he played you in the first movie..." Sam stopped talking as Dean could hear her chewing thoughtfully on her pie. "It'll probably be better in your stomach than on that plate," she remarked. "It's not going to eat itself."

"Not like I don't know that. I'm just—"

"Trying to act like I'm not actually telling you this, because it's bound to be bad?" Sam leaned forward and for a second Dean thought she was going to grab his arm or something, but instead she drove her fork into his pie, taking a large piece. Dean looked up as she forced it into her mouth and chewed.

"That was my freakin' pie," Deam said, flabbergasted.

"Then you should have freakin' eaten it," Sam responded, licking her fork. "And it's very delicious." She leaned back and snorted, putting her fork down next to her plate. "He told me this would be hard, that I would never be able to change or alter anything." She wrapped her arms around herself and laughed, hoarse and full of frustration. "You'd never believe me, that you'd never even finish listening."

Dean took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. "Didn't say I wasn't listening. Not sure about the believing part, but I've got a gut-feelin' that I'm gunna wanna hear whatever you've got to say. So, I suggest you just keep talking."

The girl's arms loosened around herself and Dean saw something on her finger, reflecting the light from the cheap headlamps.

"You're married?" Dean felt his eyebrows raise as he stared intently at the wedding band on the girl's hand. "Aren't you a little young?"

"I took my solemn vows a little after my fifteenth birthday, so yeah—I'm a lot younger than most. Actually, _you_ pulled a few strings with getting me in when I was eleven—they generally don't take you for postulancy until you're old enough to 'commit'." Sam actually raised her hands and made the freaking quote gesture. The _quote_ gesture.

It took him a split second and looking again at her to see the veil, the cross around her neck, the _ring on her goddamn finger_ before it hit him exactly what she was— "You're a nun. Nun." Oh, no way. A nun came from his DNA.

"You said that with how many women you scorned and wished one just like you on ya', it was a godsend that I was chaste."

Dean laughed, truly and deeply laughed. He could remember the words on the lips of _more_ than one pissed off woman he'd had some meaningless fuck with. Most just wanted a good night, but there were a few that thought he was gunna get down on his knee and ask for her hand in marriage over a quick fuck. "I guess you're right about that one," Dean snickered, finally taking a bite of his pie. "You were right, this is good."

She smiled. "Of course it is. But, back on topic—Uncle Bobby's. It was home for a couple years, some stuff happened and we ended up back on the road—this time with not only the Impala, but Uncle Bobby's hideous truck. The man drives like two miles per hour, I swear. Drives me up a wall. We hunted like that until I was about nine and then, well... Fuck if I know. Shit went from bad to worse and... let's just say seven buckets of Hell fell on us."

"Aren't you a nun? Shouldn't you, I dunno," Dean waved his hands in front of her and she picked up four packets of sugar, dumping it unceremoniously into her cup of coffee, "have a clean mouth or something?" He wanted to know more about what the buckets of Hell she was talking about, but she seemed distracted. She would get to it—it was the way she seemed to work.

Sam's spoon clinked on the side of her mug, absent-minded. "I took vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience, not to watch my tongue. Anyway, Winchester first, hunter second, nun third."

"And your angel bits?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't really have a lot of angel bits; been told that they'd come once I join the heavenly choir. I'm human, mostly—getting shot sucks, by the way. But freaky stuff, I don't have a huge repertoire; I'm good with languages, can see angels without meatsuits, and know a lot of angels who like me, but I don't know," she said. "If you think like one you are one, y'know."

Dean looked over her, eyes meeting hers. There was something she wasn't admitting to but he wasn't going to drag it out of her. She'd talk. "So we raised you on the road, hunting things?"

"Yeah."

Dean had no problem admitting to himself that there was something _wrong_ about that. While it was Sammy who seemed to pine for the apple-pie life with the homemaker wife, three kids and a dog named Buddy, Dean promised himself a long time ago that if he ever decided to settle down and have a normal life he wouldn't be his father. John Winchester was a good man, good hunter, but he was more often than not a shitty, deadbeat father. Dean remembered the first time his dad put a gun in his hand and no doubt the girl in front of him remembered the day that he put a gun in hers.

"What were we hunting?"

At this, Samandiriel looked around the room, glancing up at the bar and the tables around them. She had a little tick, Dean noticed—she ground her teeth. He hoped the Church had a good dental plan, because hunting sure as Hell didn't. Finally deciding that no one was listening to her, she leaned over the table a little, resting her weight on her elbows. "We're after the little monster in that demon's belly, because if we don't take care of this now, it's going to jump-start Apocalypse two-point-oh."

* * *

 _Howard Johnson Inn, Perrysburg, Ohio_

Their work was meticulous and impressive—they acted like a Winchester team, which only helped concrete the girl's identity to Dean. They'd worked together before; Samandiriel knew how to walk around him when he was doing something, lay the traps down without disturbing his work, even splattering her own blood on the wall "Because the angels have a bone to pick with you and Lucy's not in his cage," she had replied with nary a thought. If his brother wasn't unconscious on the floor, jonesing for demon blood, then he probably would have been proud to see the Winchester line's newest addition.

As was, he was just barely beginning to wake up from his drug-induced coma when Samandiriel was re-arranging Ruby's limbs and tying her to a chair in the middle of the hotel-room. For safety's sake, Dean rented the rooms to both sides, but the place was so trashy there was little chance of anyone closer complaining.

"Remove the overhead light fixtures," the girl told him. She pulled the bindings, iron shackles that were beginning to melt into Ruby's flesh until she was strung up like the prize meat after the fox hunt. "Whatever this is, it's not going to be happy you didn't gut it and I don't want glass falling on my head."

Dean's mind still swam with the girl's words; again, it was only half the story, but the rest of it would have to be said when Sam woke up from his little nap. Of course he knew that there was something really wrong and really fucked up going on between Sam and Ruby, but what the kid told him, it was so much worse than anything he could have possibly imagined up on his own. She was a class act, all right. Dean wondered for a minute if there was anything honest that ever came out of her mouth.

He glanced at the battered demon and felt revulsion build up in his stomach. This was the thing that his brother traded all his self-respect and worth for, the _thing_ his brother traded _him_ for. It took the knowledge that Samandiriel didn't want her dead because she was _pregnant with his brother's demon-spawn_ and that letting the monster out would reignite the end of the world.

Oh, goodie.

"So, what do we do with Damian?" Dean asked as he pulled off his jacket and draped it across the back of one of the chairs. His rock-salt gun, holy-water and blood of a virgin (not from his stock, but from the kid's) sat in a precarious bundle on the nearby table. There was also a bible on the table, propped open to the back. Dean knew Latin, more than most hunters but not as much as his dork of a brother, and he knew bibles, but this one all but reeked of _time_.

Sam showed up behind him, hands open. "Well, we can't let it out until we know what 'Ruby' was really planning on doing with it. Could you hand me the bible you're ogling?"

"Is that a—"

"Gutenberg Bible? Yeah—had to steal it from the Library of Congress when I was fourteen. Though, it was more like I just kind of walked in, told them I was your daughter and they handed it to me."

 _I'm a friggin' celebrity to these people in the future,_ he thought as he bit back a howl of laughter. How many women were claiming to have had a piece of the Dean Winchester pie back in the day? Probably more than he wanted to lay claim to, but it was still an entertaining thought.

Dean picked up the opened Bible and handed it to her. She quickly flipped through a few pages in the back. "Funny thing about this copy is if you know what you're looking for, you find far more than a first-print of a bible."

Dean looked down at the page she had flipped to, only to see that someone had taken a pen to the last page, making it look more like a word-search. In the altered workings were— "Gutenberg was a hunter?"

Samandiriel looked up from the bible, her smile proud. "Yep. Not one of the best, but knew his way around sneaking little Easter eggs into the vellum. There was a reason it had to be 42 lines—sneaky guy. Uncle Sam was actually the person who figured it out, though. I don't get any credit for it; we were in Washington hunting and he took upon himself to make sure I got to see the treasures, science, and all the art that I possibly could. His brain's got some funny way of thinking and just from looking at the pages on display he saw every 42nd letter on the page was actually full incantations."

He looked down at his little brother and could only remember the blood dripping down his mouth back in Pontiac, before Bobby and he locked Sam up in the panic room. The thought that he would have his brother back made him yearn for there to be truth in the girl's words; it wouldn't be apple-pie, but it would probably be as close to it as a pack of hunters, an angel, and a non-Nephilim could probably get.

For a moment, if Dean concentrated hard enough, he could see this version of his brother: Whole, healthy, smiling. He'd be sitting at Bobby's kitchen table, strewn with books and loose-leaf papers, teaching Dean's daughter math and science and the things normal kids learn in school but most hunter kids don't even think about. Maybe there are a few other kids; kids of hunters that get left at Singer Salvage while their parents are off killing baddies. In this world, Dean's in the back working on the Impala, drinking a cool bear while Bobby's jabbering on the phone to some schmuck. There's Castiel, too. Dean doesn't know what he should do with the angel—if the kid was telling the truth, he'd probably be with her, ever the militant man keeping a watchful eye on the flock.

And he _wanted_ it, just a little.

"So, do you have a clue on what exactly Ruby's been fucking with?" Dean asks, purposely dragging his thoughts away from an _idea_ , looking instead at the reality in front of him.

"Sort of, but not really," Samandiriel replied. She put the bible on the bed, and sat down, making sure to move her veil out from under her, and ran her finger over the inked words. "A while ago we found out what the second seal was, and ever since we've been trying to figure out the full story. But, since you guys killed her, it was a little hard to do."

The hunter winced. Those damn seals—starting with him him being the first one to pop. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. "What was it that you learned about the second seal?"

She looked up from the Gutenberg bible to him, then down at his brother until her eyes rested on Ruby. It took her a moment to speak. "Well, we found out that there's only three seals that really had to be broken in order to let Lucifer out—the first two and the last. The first and second happen almost simultaneously, though no one in my time had figured out exactly why they had to go hand-in-hand."

Dean motioned for her to stop. "Can you just tell me what the damn seal was?"

" _'And so the Second Seal broken shall be when a demon truly loves another_.' I kind of wish I knew this Ruby before she broke the seal, because she did something no other in the history of Demons even thought about."

* * *


End file.
